


And the skies rained red

by ghostmojave



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, But still the same, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Gabe gets with an OC in SEP and everything is different, Gaslighting, I'm so sorry, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jesse's a good kid, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, McHanzo will appear eventually, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Assault, Multi, Panic Attacks, SEP era, SEP thru recall, SO MANY OC's, Violence, Young Jesse McCree, dad!gabe, i can't believe thats a tag, my boys deserved better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostmojave/pseuds/ghostmojave
Summary: "At 4:02pm, she was woken abruptly by the feeling of being set on fire, her muscles screaming in agony. She laid there, her eyes watering, hand clamped over her mouth to keep quiet."Caoimhe was a soldier first and foremost, a decent sniper with a steady hand.Omnics? Well their hands are always steady.





	1. Chapter 1

**Hello friends! New fic coming at you hot hand heavy! Just real quick before you jump into this, I have some disclaimers and warnings and some context for the story. I am in NO way shape or form someone from the Military, I’m getting most of my info from other fics within the same general universe (Overwatch), google, and my basic knowledge of the military. I try to keep that part of the background small and vague so I don’t give anyone the wrong info or look extra ignorant, but I’m really sorry if anything is incorrect or offensive. I also do not own Overwatch, I have no rights to the characters, the universe, or the game whatsoever. This fic is basically a self indulgent Original Character (almost SI) fictional piece for fun, not for profit. All rights to Overwatch and the canon Characters belong to Blizzard Entertainment. You will see a plethora of original characters, including the main character, if that isn’t your thing, this isn’t the fic for you! This is my first Overwatch fanfiction piece, please be gentle with me as I get into the flow of the characters and the story. WARNING!!!! This story does include instances of violence, blood, gore, sexual situations, sexual assault, emotional and physical abuse. It will be heavy in some spots. If you are someone who is triggered by any of those things, there are many other fics for the fandom that don’t have those, and PLENTY of fluff pieces for it as well. Please read at your own risk! It will get worse before it gets better, it is very up and down, but I’ll try my best to not make this entirely angst. I hope you enjoy!**

 

_“Omnic Uprising? So far there are four incidents reported around the world of omniums attacking cities, resulting in mass casualties and thousands of injured. The government has yet to release a statement on these attacks, but local police are currently in negotiations with the government on what course of action should be taken in regards to the Omniums and their violence.”_

_Click_

_“… here are the rules. There are three rounds, appetizer, entrée, and dessert. Each course has it’s own basket of mystery ingredients…”_

_Click_

The large living room, painted in cool tans and whites, was cast into silence, the only noise heard was the running water outside from a neighbor who’s routine happened to have “water the plants outside at midnight” keyed into their brain. A figure sat in the living room on the well-worn couch, slumped back with their feet up haphazardly, staring blankly into the now black screened television.

With a groan, the figure slumped to the side, closing their eyes for a moment before speaking into the quiet, “man, I didn’t realize being home would be this boring… or depressing..”

Footsteps on tile floor preceded the incoming person, who stopped in the threshold of the living room within the kitchen of the small house. She was an older woman, well into her 60’s, with salt and pepper dark brunette hair, laugh lines and crows feet, puffy from sleep and dressed in a nightgown. The woman cocked her head to the side, looking into the living room at the person on the couch with mild curiosity “What in the world are you doing up, Caoimhe? Didn’t they beat that bad habit of staying up all night out of you in the military?” she jokingly said, before turning back towards the kitchen for a midnight snack, literally.

Caoimhe, the woman on the couch, groaned again, in good humor, turning her head to watch her grandmother mull about the kitchen, replying quietly “All good habits die hard, Memi, can’t help it. All they got on TV is cooking shows and the news, I’m sure you know how depressing that is right now.” She paused for a moment, looking back towards the television, and thinking briefly of her old room, now returned to it’s closet like state from before they moved into the home.

“Besides, the only thing the military has done for me is make me neater. No one’s ever gonna have to nag me to clean my room anymore.” She joked, but it was pretty true.

Her grandmother huffed a laugh, walking into the living room, a sleeve of crackers in hand. Caoimhe sat up and shuffled over on the couch, making room while her grandmother settled in on the couch and turned the TV back on.

They chatted idly about everything and nothing at all for a while, Chopped reruns from 2018 playing in the background.

The next day was a trip to the airport, back to base, back to the Air Force, back to real life, but that night? Caoimhe was just happy to be home, with her most important people.

There were some big changes on the horizon, and Caoimhe knew to cherish these moments away while she could, thinking briefly on the application she had sent in a week prior, and the life altering effect it could have.

 

_One week later_

“Major Rian? There’s a envelope for you, it looks pretty serious.”

Caoimhe startled out of the slight daze she had fallen into while reading the third redundant mission report in a row. Looking up at the… 18? 19? Year old airman, ‘oh what was his name… adam? Andrew?.... Aaahh..’ She smiled, and grabbed the envelope from his hand, nodding at him while he saluted, before turning back to her desk and inspecting the paper in hand.

The envelope itself was… quite regular, white, post stamped with the regular American flag postage stamp, labeled first class priority.. and from the government…

The implications of it sent her heart into her throat, and she took no time at all ripping open the envelope to get to the paper inside, her hands shaking from a rush of sudden adrenaline.

The letter, addressed to her, Caoimhe Rian, was relatively quick and to the point.

She had been accepted into the highly classified, experimental government funded and conducted Soldier Enhancement Program, or SEP for short.

The horizon might have been red, the world anxious with doubt and fear, the omniums a black cloud lurking, but she would be ready. She had to be.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had half a second to think ‘fuck, he’s kind of handsome’ in a horrified minor freakout kind of way before she snapped back to earth and smiled at him, sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning before hand there is a description (vageuly) detailing an anxiety attack in this chapter, so if you're triggered by that I'd suggest not reading at least the first half of the chapter (You won't miss anything terribly important to the plot if you do)  
> Sorry this took so long to get out, I've been struggling with my workload and some mental health problems recently.  
> Hope you enjoy chapter 2!

The first week of SEP, for lack of any better words, was hell. It was a mix of boot camp, and testing to make sure every person, out of the 100 accepted soldiers, were qualified physically to undergo the full program and all it entailed. Each person had a quarter to themselves, a single sized cot, a small desk, a closet, and a very small bathroom. It wasn’t ideal, but when you’re used to bunking with other people it’s somewhat of a luxury. The base itself was located in lord knows where middle of the desert Arizona. It was hot, dry, and sunny almost all of the time, at least outside, however the base was mostly built under ground, with no windows, stuffy air, and dark hallways.

For Caoimhe, it was a harsh wakeup call, used to working outside on duty, and in well-lit offices handling the admissions side of the Airforce. There were only 15 other members of the Airforce selected for the program, the majority of the others were from the Army, and the Marines.

The first day was filled with drills, lining up in rows, getting screamed at by the commanding officers, and learning about what the program will entail, how it should go.

Injections twice a week, training on the other days, with small missions in between. Everyone was sectioned off into squads, not only for training but also for missions. Twenty, five manned squads, with a captain in each.

They met their squad mates the second day, working with them in tandem on exercises in the large underground gymnasium, and sparring with them. Her squad, a five man cell like the rest, consisted of an older east Asian woman with a stern face named Faith, and the captain of their squad, Makea Nibi who was a tall muscular dark skinned woman with a no nonsense attitude, A tall and lithely built, ginger named Tod, and a bulky and well-muscled darker skinned man named Nick. They all seemed nice enough, generally trying to work with each other and get to know each other, but for Caoimhe, who was used to the comradery she had built with others from her base before she joined the SEP, she felt out of sorts. Alone in a room full of people, off balance in a new place where nearly no one knew her. Old habits of quieting down and just listening came back full force, especially during lunch time.

Sitting at her squads table eating bland protein filled meals and listening to her team mates talk about nothing and everything and not speaking up herself.

The first rounds of injections weren’t until the second week, and even despite her inner worries and loneliness, Caoimhe resolved to go through with it. She put her head down, went through the motions, passed every test, physical or otherwise, and for the time being, managed to stay quietly in the middle of the pack,

On the first day of the program, a stern older man whom she couldn’t recalled the name of, informed the soldiers of injection day, and what it entailed, basically being your number gets called over the speakers, you go, get the shot, and then you have the day off. Over the course of week one, a lot of people, especially those with Army backgrounds, would jeer and make jokes about how easy the program was, and every time, without fail, Caoimhe would duck her head against the heavy lead feeling that filled her gut, because there was no conceivable way it would be that easy, and she had a bad feeling about it.

Then came the first injection day.

Each quarter came with a small wooden chair for the desk, which Caoimhe had tucked into the far right corner of the room, with a little lamp and the dim overhead light on. Curled up in her chair, feet tucked against the arm rests, with a thick book in hand, titled “Allegiant” by Veronica Roth, to distract herself from the upcoming injection. Her anxiety had always been a heady thing, mainly health related, and it would sneak up and physically wreck her if it was bad enough. No exceptions made for the upcoming injection, her body taking to practically vibrating with unease. Her eyes sightless against the pages while she waited, listening to the soldier’s numbers being called down to the infirmary for their first rounds.

“Soldier 24” blares over the speakers in the hall, the silence in her room allowing the sound to pass through easily enough.

 It becomes harder to focus on the words in the book, zoning out for a few minutes to calm down while the disembodied voice calls several more people down for their turn.

“Soldier 30.”

“Soldier 31” her heart does a very impressing attempt at jumping out of her chest or suffocating her, while her eyes flicker to the older radio sitting harmlessly on her desk. It’s in her nature to try to drown out her anxiety with background noise, but her turn was coming…

“Soldier 34”

Jolting out of her inner turmoil, the shaking  back full force,  she practically scrambled out of the wooden chair, book forgotten on the floor as she took quick, jerky steps from one end of her tiny room to the other, pacing.

“Soldier 35”

“fuuuuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck” it comes out more like a wheeze, chest shivers trying to squeeze the air out of her in intervals. She was intimate with this process, though it had been over a year since her last full blown anxiety attack, and she felt weak and pathetic.

“It’s just a shot, it’ll be fine, calm down, it’s fine, don’t be a bitch, you’ve got this kee, c’mon”  spoken to herself, a private pep talk, just to calm down even a little bit, for the walk down to the infirmary and few hallways away.

It works, kind of.

“Soldier 36.” Squeezing her eyes shut tight for a moment, and with one deep breath in, she took three quick steps to the door of her room while letting the breath out, stepping into the hallway and practically stalking down to the infirmary, muscles drawn tight to keep the shivering back as best as possible.

The entire process took maybe five minutes.

Five minutes of Caoimhe trying her best not to lose her shit, start shivering, or walk right back out the way she had come in. The nurse, scientist or whatever he was, moved quick and precise, cleaning the area on her arm before doing the injection. She refused to look, didn’t want to see how big the needle was, or what color the shit they were putting into her body was. It pinched, and it stung, but only slightly worse than a flu shot, or her birth control shot, over just as quickly.

No special instructions, the person just waved her out, and off she went, relief that it was over and that she didn’t freak completely filling her, stamping her anxiety into a fine dust that swirled in the back of her mind, but she refused to give it any thought.

Back in her room, she changed quickly into something more comfortable, being a pair of form fitting joggers and an oversized hoodie. Her plan to relax on her “day off” at the forefront of her mind while she grabbed the forgotten book on the floor, and clicked the radio on.

Her arm throbbed dully, and she chose to ignore it for the moment, settling onto her bed with her legs folded in front of her and book in her lap.

The time on the radio read 9:28am.

 

By 10:30am, the shivers were back, only this time not caused by anxiety. She felt hot, and freezing at the same time, sweat beading across her forehead.

 

At 11:05am, the nausea started, and so the next two hours were spent curled over the toilet, violently throwing up. After a while, with nothing left in her stomach to vomit, she just sat there while her stomach clenched painfully, empty but turning at the same time, still shivering harshly.

 

At 1:45pm, she managed to crawl back to her bed, slumping on top of the covers and curling in on herself, more exhausted than she had ever felt.

 

At 4:02pm, she was woken abruptly by the feeling of being set on fire, her muscles screaming in agony. She laid there, her eyes watering, hand clamped over her mouth to keep quiet.

 

Finally, at 7:51pm, her body shut down on itself, pulling her into nothing. She slept fitfully, her body undergoing changes she didn’t understand.

 

Her gut feeling during the first week was spot on.

 

 

 

 

And so went the first month of SEP, working with her team for the majority of the week, and spending the injection days writhing in agony alone in her room. She got to know her squad, slowly but surely, forging bonds with them all.

She got along best with Tod, his well-meaning, laid back demeanor easy on her own demi-social personality. Their tentative friendship was easy, he knew she didn’t always want to talk, and she listened attentively to any jokes and stories of his travels in the Navy forces. Many lunches and evenings in the common rooms were spent listening to him regal stories, and talk about his past. She learned a lot from his stories, how he usually had long hair but military regulation put a stop to that, he swings both ways but prefers men, he’s the tallest in his family, and one time he broke his arm jumping off the roof of his childhood home for a bet. There were multiple times where his stories had him chuckling, red faced and embarrassed whilst Caoimhe bent over double, body wrecked with silent laughter and tears trailing down her face.

Tod was one of those people who’s smile lit them up from the inside, all white teeth and shiny light brown eyes. Caoimhe wasn’t the only one on base who admired his rather distinctive looks, overhearing both men and women alike whispering to their friends. He took any compliment with a smile and a thank you, but never accepted any invitations, which was strange, but none of Caoimhe’s business, so she left it alone, and continued to enjoy his easy company.

Nick, well, Nick was a very… bright person. Bubbly, constantly laughing, joking around and almost never serious, even during training. He always had a joke to tell, or a comment, though it was always positive and genuine. He was very, very nice, and sort of intimidating because of his size, towering over Caoimhe by over a foot, with a whole 100lbs on her own weight and dark skin pulled tight over bulging muscles. For Caoimhe, he was one of those “small doses” people, it took a lot of energy to keep up with him, even if the interaction was enjoyable. Nothing got him down, but Caoimhe was fond of him, and the whispered racist slurs from some of the other less than savory soldiers, had her almost willing to go against her will to go through this without being noticed.

If it was one thing Caoimhe never understood, was how skin tone could make any sort of a difference.

The only thing able to temper Nick’s whirlwind energy were the two oldest members of the squad, Makea and Faith, who’s no nonsense attitudes and experience cut the edges of his outgoing personality down to tame levels depending on the situation. She got along with both women well enough, respecting their experience, and tactical knowledge well enough to listen and think about their orders, even though she wasn’t a tactician.

Outside of her squad, there weren’t too many friendly faces, the soldiers tending to group up and stick to those groups, which, comically enough, felt a bit like highschool to Caoimhe, and she had to fight a smile every time the thought popped into her head. There were a few though, who stuck out, but for all different reasons.

Sitting at one of the many circular tables in the communal mess hall with her head down stuffing a bland, protein filled “breakfast” down her throat, Caoimhe thought back to the first time she met Liam Moore, a star soldier.

 

_The mornings post injection were always awful, you either felt better or you didn’t, but the upper echelon of the program only gave them all one day off for injections, unless you ended up either dead or in the infirmary, though ending there basically just heralded the “dead” part._

_After the first round, Caoimhe had heard that at least two soldiers had passed from the injections, which to her, in a distant and strange sort of way, made a lot of sense._

_For her though, the morning after found her dragging her feet down the hall, head down, dark hair barely regulation, considering how messy the long locks were piled together into a bun behind her head._

_She didn’t even bother checking herself in the mirror before she had left her quarters, knowing fair well how shit she looked, dark circles and bloodshot eyes, and her muscles still felt hot and achy. The aftermath of her multiple anxiety attacks the day before left a haze over her mind, running in circles over the injections, and tinging her mood with homesickness and fear._

_So engrossed in her own head, she didn’t see the other soldier coming until she practically barreled into what felt like a solid wall, knocking herself sideways and barely managing to catch her own footing, an apology halfway out of her mouth before she even looked at who she basically hockey rocked in the middle of the hallway._

_“I’m so sorr-“_

_“Jeez, you okay?” a low voice murmured, the soldier reaching a hand out to grip her arm and steady her._

_“Yeah, yeah I’m alright, I’m so sorry for that, I wasn’t looking where I was going” She replied, feeling her face flush hot from embarrassment, inwardly berating her irish heritage for her pale skin, before she really took in the man who still had a grip on her arm._

_He had a kind face, symmetrical (or whatever, she had heard somewhere that symmetrical faces made people look kinder for whatever psychological reason) with blonde hair, cropped regulatory, full lips, no scars at all, and a mild, sunkissed tanned glow about him. His eyes were a muted, gray kind of blue color, and his eyebrows were pulled together in a concerned full face frown._

_She had half a second to think ‘_ fuck, he’s kind of handsome’ _in a horrified minor freakout kind of way before she snapped back to earth and smiled at him, sheepishly._

_His frown evened out and he smiled back, letting go of her arm and offering his hand instead for a handshake, which she took after quirking a quizzical brow at him._

_“Liam Moore, or soldier 52, nice to meet you…” he started, giving her hand a firm shake before letting go and retreating a bit._

_“Coaimhe Rian, soldier 36, nice to meet you as well.” She replied, pausing for a second to look around and get her bearings, collect herself a bit more, before shooting him another quick smile and saying “sorry about that again, but I’ve got to go, I’ll see you around, I guess”_

_It brought a brighter smile to his face as he replied “certainly, don’t let me hold you up, they gave us a feast today, don’t wanna miss it!” before hurrying off the way he was headed before what she’ll dub ‘The Incident.’_

 

After that, she had scrambled to get to the mess and eat, finding that he was, in fact right about the feast. Since then, Caoimhe had run into him numerous times around the base and during training, each time getting a sunny grin from the tall blonde which made her cheeks flush pink, and causing her to feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush.

‘ _fucking bullshit, I’m a grown woman this is ridiculous_ ’ she thought to herself, a little grumpy.

There were a few others that stuck out as well, but she had managed to not body check anyone else since then, so the meetings were more tame and less embarrassing.

There was Jessie Willough, a fellow female soldier who Caoimhe had a rather “please don’t talk to me” feeling about, as the woman gossiped like no other, and Caoimhe had overheard her viciously roast quite a few of the other female soldiers. She was pretty, in a very modern, normal kind of way, with light brown hair, tan skin, and shark hazel eyes. Compared to a lot of the other female soldiers, Jessie wasn’t as cut either, falling more to the side of ‘healthy’ looking and soft, not so many hard edges.  She also flirted, constantly, with any male that gave her the time of day, but not in a way that was “slutty” or “thirsty”, at least, Caoimhe didn’t think it came off that way, but it was rather sad to watch.

Then there John “Jack” Morrison, and Gabriel Reyes. The two were thick as thieves, being in the same squad together. Both men were beasts in their own way, and every day of the enhancement they just kept bulking up, and Caoimhe was kind of fascinated and excited to see how they’d look at the end of the program. They were almost always together, the sun and the moon orbiting each other, in a poetic sort of way. Jack was a tall, blonde haired man with one hell of a shoulder breadth, with bright blue eyes and a charming smile, almost everyone liked him within moments of meeting him. Caoimhe wasn’t too sure about Jack yet though. Once in a while, during brief conversations and joint exercises she had caught a glint in his eyes, or a set to his face that made everything seem like a mask, and as she spent more time in the program and around the blonde, she realized that most of his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes. The whole thing made him incredibly hard to read for Caoimhe, and it sent her metaphorical hackles up, but he spoke with her kindly enough.

Where everyone loved Jack, everyone was just as equally intimidated and spooked by Gabriel. He was all hard glares and cutting words, thick arms crossed tight over his chest and just radiating constant disapproval and “don’t talk to me” vibes. He had a few more years of service under his belt than Jack, and even Caoimhe herself, and it showed in the way he took control of his exercises. With his darker skin tone and fierce glares, heavy brows and short facial hair, he looked incredibly severe. Caoimhe had seen him smile twice, both times at Jack, and even Jessie wouldn’t flirt with him for fear of what the man would do. He was hard to read as well, but moreso in the way of he wouldn’t let anyone close (except Jack) but Caoimhe had a healthy dose of respect not only for his tactical mind, but also for his demeanor.

A plate slamming down on the table in front of her broke her from her intense pondering on the mystery of the other soldiers, bringing her face to face with Makea, her face drawn down into a fierce glower.

“Uh oh” was all Caoimhe could muster, thinking back on if she had done anything particularly stupid to warrant getting the third degree that early in the morning.

“They’re pairing everyone off for one v ones today, and going forward they’re getting rid of squads in general, apparently too many have died from injections for the squad rotations to hold up. I don’t know why the fuck they’d even do squads to begin with if they had any idea this would happen.” Makea grumbled, grabbing a piece of bread from her tray and tearing it in half, taking a hefty bite of it while glaring down at the table.

While the content of the mini rant was a little concerning, being that working on her own would make it harder to pass by relatively unnoticed, Caoimhe felt relief sweep through her at not being the source of Makea’s annoyance. She had seen the stern woman go off on Tod before for joking around during a simulation and frankly, Caoimhe could happily say no thank you to receiving that.

Caoimhe watched the older woman for a moment, before shrugging “I don’t know, maybe they had higher hopes, I mean I know they said the whole thing was experimental, or maybe they had a reason for breaking it up now. I’m not really here to ask questions about that kind of stuff.”

Makea’s face scrunched up in response for a moment before sighing, looking up at Caoimhe from her tray, “maybe, but who knows. Just feels like the hard work gone into making the squads run smoothly was a waste of time.”

Caoimhe nodded in sympathy, vaguely understanding where Makea was coming from.

They’re conversation, albeit brief, was interrupted by Tod and Faith’s arrival at the table with their own breakfasts, Faith sitting beside Makea while Tod taking the spot next to Caoimhe with a smile in her direction.

“Couldn’t help but overhear, kind of a shame y’know? But at least we’ll all still see each other around all the time” he started, with a smile in Makea and Faith’s direction. Faith sent a small smile in his direction, nodding, while Makea went back to staring down at her food like it kicked her dog.

Tod turned to Caoimhe, a mischievous quirk to his lips “don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you”

Scrunching her face up in response, Caoimhe gave him a light glare before shaking her head and turning to her own food, “you’ll end up with a face full of the mat if you do that” she responded before shoving a pile of mystery potatoes in her mouth to the sound of him laughing jovially beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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